


something comforting

by waterleveldropping



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, MAG 39: Infestation, Missing Scene, Season 1, kinda.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterleveldropping/pseuds/waterleveldropping
Summary: “You’re not as bad at this as you are at your job,” Jon stated, a small smile on his dazed face.“Please,” Martin replied, not sure what he was begging for.---Martin and Jon are left alone during the Prentiss attack after Sasha runs out to get help. Jon contemplates how Martin's lips would feel on his, for want of something to distract him.
Relationships: Jonanthan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 24
Kudos: 249





	something comforting

**Author's Note:**

> i know i know im sorry i wrote fluffy jonmartin there is no excuse im so sorry it wont happen again
> 
> (it might happen again)

Jon thinks that if he never saw another pale silver worm in his life it would be too soon. 

Sasha has just ran out after Tim, letting a few wriggling shapes in when she swung the door open, which Martin and Jon had to take care of themselves. Jon doesn’t like being trapped here, and he likes being trapped with Martin even less. But his leg fucking _hurts_ , and he couldn’t leave if he wanted to. The human hive full of worms that wants to kill them outside the door notwithstanding. 

“We got all of them, right?” Martin asks, he’s looking around the small room, double-checking behind filing cabinets and old boxes of statements. “You don’t see any more crawling around?” 

“No,” Jon replies from the floor. He isn’t exactly looking, but if he starts focusing on their situation more than he already is, he’s going to properly freak out and risk embarrassing himself in front of Martin of all people, so he stays put where he is. 

“Okay,” Martin sighs, forcing himself to stop scanning every crevice of the room for now. “God I hope Sasha is okay.”

“She’ll run and get help.” Jon says, half to reassure himself. 

“Oh, god,” Martin realizes. “Tim went into your office. Where the hole was. Oh, god, we need to h--”

Jon grabs Martin’s wrist, pulls him down to sit with him on the floor. “The best thing we can do is stay put.” 

“You don’t _know_ that, Tim and Sasha could--” 

“Martin,” Jon repeats. “Calm yourself. I don’t need you freaking out on me.” 

Martin swallows. “Right,” his breath is still labored and the panic is visible on every inch of him. It’s safe to say he’s already thoroughly freaked out, but him running out and leaving Jon by himself would be a worst-case scenario. “Right, okay. I’m okay. I’m going to check the window again.” 

The glass on the door is frosted, and distorts and blurs the image on the other side fairly well. “I’m not… seeing anything,” Martin squints, face pressed up to the glass. “No Prentiss, no Tim either.” 

“Guess we’re just stuck waiting, then.” Jon fiddles with the buttons on the tape recorder, which hasn’t left his hands since they ran into the small room. “Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” Jon huffs after watching Martin pace some more. 

“Sorry,” Martin takes a seat on the wall opposite Jon. In this space, their shoes are nearly touching, and they have to consciously make an effort to avoid it. They sit bracketed by silence and the ever-present sound of slimy wriggling, miserable and trapped. 

Jon tries not to think about it, but that only proves to force it deeper into his mind, so he gives in, weighing his options. Calling for help is out, as they’ve established. There’s no service this far down. Sasha seemed to have made it up the stairs and into the Institute proper, at least, Jon mentally remarks, and she wouldn’t just leave them here. Out of all of them, it’s probably best that she was the one who managed to get out. 

Tim isn’t weak by any means, and more likely than not found some CO2 canisters in the office, which should suffice for however long it takes Sasha to get help-- unless of course Prentiss finds him, but Jon decides not to dwell on that idea right now. 

Martin is visibly a wreck, leg bouncing up and down and hands hugging himself. He’s not small by any means, and if push came to shove, maybe he could carry Jon out of the Archives? Martin meets his gaze as Jon arrives at the thought of himself in Martin’s arms, and both of them flick their gaze steadily to the carpet. Best not to get caught up on worst-case scenarios, Jon figures. 

“Shit,” Martin says suddenly, as if he’s remembered something. 

“What?” Jon asks. His eyes instinctively fall on the door, looking for any moving shapes beyond it.

“I didn’t apologize to her about the row we had a few days ago.” Martin says, pushing his glasses to his forehead and rubbing at his face. “I don’t want my last interaction with her to be that I screamed at her over the phone,” he groans.

“Who?” Jon questions, a bit lost. 

“My mum,” Martin replies, resting his head against the wall and frowning at the ceiling. “She’s ill.” 

“Oh,” Jon says awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“S’fine. I know I shouldn’t be talking about the idea of not making it out of here, but,” He closes his eyes. “I dunno. I’d regret too much.” 

“Yeah,” Jon replies. He feels equally as hopeless, but is trying to have faith in his employees for the time being. That, and the fact that he would really hate to meet his end in this place like his predecessor. “Me too.” There is a beat of silence.

“What would you regret most?” Jon asks, for want of something to drown out the unpleasant sounds from outside. 

Martin scoffs, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Way to keep it positive,” he says.

“Sorry.” 

“I dunno. Not spending enough time with my mum, for one, but… I guess I’ve not really done anything with myself yet,” he frowns. “It’s like that, right? You spend so much time trying to just get by that you forget to like, enjoy yourself. Is that stupid?” Martin asks.

Jon shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Also, I would hate for these last few months of my life to have been _the_ last few months of my life. If I had known I was going out, I would’ve at least done something… out of the ordinary.” 

“Like what?”

Martin pauses. “Bungee jumping?”

There is a second where both of them stare at each other. 

Then, they both start laughing despite themselves. 

It’s a combination of stress and uncertainty and the absurdity of the whole situation, but once they begin, neither of them can stop. The feeling of normalcy that falls over the room in those seconds is blissful, almost addicting. Like letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“ _Bungee jumping?”_ Jon snorts through laughter. “Seriously?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind!” Martin tries and fails to sound indignant. 

“It’s a pretty unoriginal answer. Doesn’t everyone always say skydiving or bungee jumping or whatever?” 

“I don’t know! What would your answer be?” 

Jon sits back, still a bit giddy from the sudden outburst. The feeling of lightness after so much stress and pressure is euphoric. 

“God, I don’t know. That I’d kissed more people?” he remarks, offhandedly, not even considering the implications. It’s not something he’d normally bring up with anyone, let alone his co-workers, but he’s also not normally being hunted by evil worms, so.

Martin, however, does not let the statement go unexamined. “Really?” 

“Yes, is that so hard to believe?” Jon asks, taking that same affronted tone he usually does after a few drinks. 

“Yeah. Well, no,” Martin sputters. “I mean it shouldn’t be. But I’d have expected it from, like, Tim, not you.”

“Why not?” 

Martin shrugs, still smiling, though it falls more into the awkward category now. “I don’t know, you’re always so… reserved. Didn’t think you’d let anyone get that close.” 

“I’m not a _monster_ ,” Jon scoffs. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “But you’re implying that you’ve considered this before,” he remarks, just to see where the suggestion will lead. 

It seems to have led into more unbearable silence, Jon notes with a frown. Martin drops the conversation after that, going back to staring intently at the ceiling. He swears he sees the faintest hint of blush on Martin’s dark cheeks, but he attributes it to stress and the fact he’s been pacing, and disregards it. 

At least now his thoughts have somewhere else to go. It’s true that Georgie is the only person who he’s really dated, their relationship spanning most of both of their college years. There were a few times that he and Tim had gone for drinks and ended up on Jon’s couch, but he wasn’t about to tell Martin that. He wasn’t sure why he was even telling Martin any of it to begin with. Boredom, probably. Imminent death, even more likely.

But Jon liked kissing. He liked kissing when it didn’t contain any assumptions about what would come after the kissing. He liked kissing when he had discussed what worked and what didn’t work for him beforehand, with someone he trusted. He was less keen on being touched and more on touching, watching the reactions of his partner. It was just a… nice feeling to be able to make someone feel nice.

Martin would be a good kisser. 

There wouldn’t really be an assumption of an after, in this case, would there? This ended with them either getting eaten by worms, or the two of them having to perilously escape from said worms, and neither ended in expectations or assumed promises of an after. 

Jon moved closer to Martin, slowly. The other man stared at him, confused. 

“What is it?” he questioned, tensing. “Is there another worm?” 

“No,” Jon said, and now that he was closer to him, Jon noted that Martin really was big and capable and suddenly very appealing to him now that they were possibly about to die. 

“Martin,” he started.

“Yes?” Martin replied, small. 

“...Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Martin answered, smaller. 

Jon was right about this, at least. Martin _was_ a good kisser. It was awful etiquette, to be in the habit of snogging your employees, but Jon let the thoughts be smothered under the feeling of Martin’s lips on his. 

When Jon pulled away, he realized with a start that Martin was shaking. Badly, at that. He moved away to look at Martin properly, and Martin leaned into him, backing him into the cold metal of the filing cabinet they were sat beside. 

“Oh,” Jon realized, tone flat. “You have thought about this,” It was less of a surprise and more of an explanation. 

“Shut up,” Martin whined and pressed their lips back together, and Jon felt the hum in his own throat. He was pressed up against the cabinet proper now, Martin doing his best to hold him lest Jon slip away. 

Jon let his lips part slightly, not even consciously, just opened them, and swallowed a gasp as Martin pushed his tongue past Jon’s teeth immediately. The buzz of being kissed senseless was such a welcome change to the stress and horror of the past few hours, and Jon let Martin take his pleasure, enjoying the way he had unwound his assistant so very easily. 

“Martin,” Jon spoke into Martin’s mouth.

“Sorry,” Martin panted in reply, pulling away only a few centimeters to stare at Jon’s face, committing the image to memory. “God, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing,” he rambled.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed absentmindedly, wanting Martin’s lips back on him. “Completely inappropriate for a work setting.” 

Jon was practically in Martin’s lap, his small frame wasn’t especially hard to maneuver, and his theory from earlier was more than confirmed: Martin could toss Jon over his shoulders like he weighed nothing, and at that image, he hooked his arms around Martin’s shoulders and pulled him back into him. 

Evidently not expecting the forcefulness, Martin squeaked slightly into Jon’s mouth. If Jon had put his hands on him, then Martin could reciprocate, right? He moved big hands to rest above Jon’s hips, his sweater all scratchy and cheap and wonderful against Martin’s fingers. He wanted to remember this sensation for as long as he lived. 

Another pause for breath. “You’re not as bad at this as you are at your job,” Jon stated, a small smile on his dazed face. 

“Please,” Martin replied, not sure what he was begging for. 

“It... feels nice. Thank you.” 

“It does. You’re… god, Jon, you’re…”

Martin felt like he was dreaming, to put it lightly. He’d had fantasies about Jon, sure, even dared to venture a guess at what their first kiss would be when he was feeling particularly lovesick, but nothing compared to the feeling of Jon in his hands, on his lips. Tim was going to win the stupid bet he had going with Sasha, but Martin didn’t care, he didn’t even care if there was anything after this, if he died, he could die happy. 

Jon made a very un-Jon-like sound under Martin’s touch, and Martin was suddenly acutely aware of the tightness in his own trousers, and then very, very aware of the fact that Jon could absolutely feel that hardness from his position in Martin’s lap. 

He was about to pull away to apologize for getting a hard-on from a bit of snogging like a teenager when Jon pressed a hand to Martin’s crotch, letting it rest on the outline of his cock straining against fabric.

“ _Jon!_ ” Martin all but squeaked. 

“You’re very… receptive.” Jon noted, more intrigued than anything. 

“You’re very hot,” Martin replied without thinking about the exact implications of calling his boss attractive. “Are you okay with this, or--” 

“This really is all because of me?” Jon breathed, fingers still on Martin’s clothed cock, torturing him without even noticing it. Martin felt like he could die. He might die.

“Yeah, you’re--” Martin cut himself off with a shudder. “Please you’re going to make me--” Oh god, oh _god._ This was not happening-- was it happening? Martin couldn’t breathe. 

His boss was touching him through two layers of clothes in what was practically a glorified storage cupboard and Martin was going to cream his pants like a teenager if Jon didn’t stop and it was going to be the best orgasm of his entire life right before they both got eaten by worms and

“Hi, guys!” 

Tim’s voice boomed from the doorway. The door was off its hinges, broken and laying on the floor. Tim’s hair was a mess, and he’d obviously been running. 

Fuck.

“Oh!” he exclaimed as Jon and Martin scrambled off one another, despite it being much too late for the situation to have any platonic explanation. “Interrupting something, am I?” Tim asked, in a tone much too casual for the life-or-death scenario they were all currently a part of. Martin would choose death right now if he could. 

“Tim, you’re alright?” Jon asked, tucking his shirt back in, pretending the last few minutes hadn’t happened. Martin wished he could do the same. The sound of worms outside was back in his ears all of a sudden, and he felt like crawling out of his skin. 

Tim continued. “Yeah! Funny story, really…” 

Once Tim had turned around to lead them into the tunnels, Jon pulled his sweater over his head and forced it into Martin’s arms wordlessly, then walked ahead. Martin stared down at the shirt for a second, then brought it to wrap around his waist, tying it in front. If he stretched it a bit, well, it was on Jon for offering it to him in the first place. 

This was all Jon’s fault, Martin thought with no real malice, willing his erection away.

He wasn’t looking forward to a trek through the tunnels below his workplace half-hard, but he figured it wasn’t exactly the worst thing that had happened today. Nor would it be the strangest thing to have occurred in the tunnels, Martin figured, and jogged lightly to catch up to the other two.

**Author's Note:**

> i just love season one so much, thats my excuse. also im really surprised no one else has written jonmartin for this scene. theyre literally alone in a small space together and thinking they're going to die.. cmon
> 
> i wanted to make sure jon was the one initiating here: one, because i love short-circuting martins brain by having jon kiss him, and also because im exploring different types of ace-ness w jon and its very fun and freeing! i do enjoy the headcanon here that he enjoys getting his partners off while not needing it reciprocated. mans has gotta watch ykno, those damn eye avatars.
> 
> title from the porter robinson song of the same name! 
> 
> thanks for reading! comments are appreciated <3


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